


The Man Called Cayde-6

by Halogien



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cayde-6 Being Cayde-6 (Destiny), Destiny 2, Five Stages of Grief, Foresaken (Destiny), Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halogien/pseuds/Halogien
Summary: The tale of a man called Cayde-6. A flashback on his life. No details. Bare bones.





	The Man Called Cayde-6

Cayde had lived for a long time. Traveler, he had been on this earth since before the Collapse. Well into the Golden Age to be exact.

He had made mistakes and good decisions. He had loved and hated as well as been loved and hated. He had been wild and sometimes even tame. As he lay here with a hole in his chest and remorse on his lips, he knew that Guardian would not make it in time this time to save him. His body realized this and gave him one last moment of reflection to remind him of everything in his life like some ‘life flashes before your eyes’ moment. As his mind processed everything he could, re realized that despite it all, he had lived a good life. A solid one.

He had gambled even in his human life. Born to a mother that saw the end of his father’s drunken tirade more often than not until one day she was no longer there to defend him. He ran away into a safe home. He met his Queen as high school sweethearts. He wanted to be enough for her and joined the military for a war he no longer remembers to be enough. He loved his wife so dearly and ran a successful business of civilian bodyguard escorts after one bullet too any ended his military career. They had a son, Ayce, a son born perfect in his eye. His wife was ashamed, paid his little boy no mind, and he didn’t find out until later. Trouble brewed when Ayce was diagnosed with a genetic disease that didn’t exist in his family tree nor hers. A test confirmed his worst fears.

Yet, he loved his son like his own. Sold his business for treatments, but it wasn’t enough. So, he took what he could and gambled it when loans were denied. When that failed, he drank what little he had all away. His wife was long gone, his non-biological son may not live to see the next year, and he had failed to provide enough. Enough for his son, enough for his wife to stay and stay faithful. He had no one else. His military brothers were in their careers, dead, or happy in their own place in life without him.

The Bray family contacted. He had done business for the family many times. He knew they weren’t safe or morally right, but they offered to wipe his debts and then some. Ayce would be saved, but he would not be the same man. He made contingency plans, hid black market resources everywhere like the pirates from his son’s childhood stories. Wrote what he could. He knew somethings were too hard to write and instead recorded them so he could remember. He visited his son, who was balding from the medicine given to him. He told his son that he wasn’t coming back due to giving up himself to the Bray Corp. In return. his son told him the last words so full of hate that stayed with him and influenced him without him knowing. Now that he looks into it from an outsider point of view.

“It’s your fault! If you had taken care of Mom, of me, of your relationship. Your just like my friends say, some backwash redneck military hick with blind eyes and stupid smiles! It’s your fault and I hate you!”

The last thing ever told to him and he deserved it. Everything he touched fell apart. He didn’t remember much after that, it was full of drinking and writing letters to the few old military buddies he had. Even one letter to his ex that he had a feeling would return unopened. He remembered cutting his long hair to donate to his son. It was to be delivered after his rebirth. His son deserved to have long hair and not carry his mistakes with him.

It took two wipes and another broken heart, from a lady that was married, to find his hidden cache and recover the fact that he had lost something vital. He knew at that moment that wipes were not a necessity to survival. He did not check on Ayce. Not after everything. Instead, he wrote more letters and got a few wipes further. Names distorted and he placed more pieces together from the ashes of his memories. He was used to fight in another forgotten war. He was used to assassinate and carry out sabotage to the other side. As a chess piece of Clovis Bray, he was expendable for the business and families wishes. To them, the world was not perfect unless remade in their image. He was just another Exo, one with a habit of taking unwanted missions hoping it would damage him beyond repair and instead he climbed the ranks. He became a spy for Rasputin after the machine questioned things. He was found out and wiped. He long stopped counting after that 6. He did not want know that soon he would end up like his buddy Banshee. The man was already on wipe 23 during that time.

He remembered dreaming of multiple things. Crypt, butchery, orders, regrets. Once he had Ayce under his grip, struggling. He did not want to know if it was real. Not today, not ever. Not his little boy. His little bitter son.

The Collapse left him torn and scarred.

That was the one time a wipe was purposely sought for before he tore his own eye sockets out from what he had seen. Some things did not need to be seen. He lost someone that day and he never wrote down who nor remembered who it was, but his heart burned every time he remembered the small fragments of that time. Dark and screaming. . . the screaming.

His first death ended with a couple journals, Ace of Spade, poker chips, a deck of cards, and a bottle at his side. Maybe he toasted death before taking it in the head. Looking outside in, he wouldn’t doubt it with his state of mind.

His first revive was full of confusion as he tried to piece everything together and smacked his Ghost to the ground and floored it out of the building and out from a section that had fallen off due to decay. He screamed higher than he ever thought possible, not that he remembered anything at the time. He was broken and alone. Hallow. Ran right off the cliff that the building was swaying over. Bounced his way to the bottom. His second revive was calmer to say the least.

He was made a lightbearer before Twilight Gap. He had a crew he ran with. The crew that drew him from depression and into who he was going to become. Guiding people to the city, being the better man. Killing things that may have not needed to be eliminated. Saw the ruins of humanity as it huddles on the last safe corner of the world under the Traveler that was forced to give its life when trapped by Rasputin. He was re-created out of desperation of this last creature of light. Yet, it is all hope that one day his actions will lead to lives outside of the borders full of rust and ruin. Humanity needed to lived outside the walls or they would become animals like the rest. The dispute many had with the Vanguard. Especially Hunters who saw what he saw.

He and Andal Dared each other when no one else would, especially when the last one was lost. He won. A Hunter always keeps his word. Andal joined them caged behind concrete walls by the ‘Vanguard way’ and betrayed their little fireteam. He didn’t stay angry long. If only he had known that the man had grown to be an even better man by not wavering on his words and promises. If only he knew that Taniks was a fallen that never fell, permanently at least and that meant the Dare was still on. The mercenary with a fame. The damn creature came back to life and bit him in the butt. It caused him to be hated by other Hunters who thought this Dare was unkind and cost them the life of the preferred Hunter Vanguard and traded Andal for him. So, he wore Andal’s outfit. He still wasn’t enough and he did not blame them looking at his life to that point. Big Z and Ikora thought so too. Still do even after the Red War. They treated him like a mistake for many years and made the cloak on his shoulder ever so heavier. He made the mistake of falling for one of them and caring for the other. He wasn’t around anyone else. Many thought he had betrayed them like he thought Andal had. Over time, the others hated him for being the cause of Andal’s death or sending others to their deaths. Some could care less. Shiro was a scout, Banshee couldn’t hold a conversation longer than 5 minutes. No hunter risked being in the Tower in case a Dare was needed or getting stuck in the Tower for longer than they want on some scouting inner-city mission. That was his penance. For all the destruction and mistakes, he had made.

He was shunned by his own kind, hated by his love, ignored by ones he cared about, and avoided like a plague because apparently, he was irresponsible who couldn’t see past the wild’s and his own nose. He hadn’t even seen Shiro outside of comms.

But he wore this leash willingly after that disaster due to his perceived arrogance. His only solace was that Andal, in some way, was free of this. That Shiro was too young to be dragged into this dare at the time. The Dare that kept coming back to life. So, he had clung to the idea of his Queen, of his son Ace. That memory of supposedly requited love to help him when the darkness of the situation, of his life closed in. She was a shield in form of a memory of something he did not know was real. It progressed as time and time went on.

The Vault of Glass was his current obsession, solved by a fireteam and he was not there. Taniks came back and he was not the one to put him down. He knew no one would take his idea with realism and so he sent the Guardian into the Dreadnaught. In return he was put down and into a corner for his actions. Yelled at and not given a single moment to explain. In return he took down the Barons on his own except for the Fanatic. Placed them in prison and spared their lives. A mistake. He repaired the burnt bridge Big Blue created with the Awoken society. He stopped involving his supposed fireteam. Another mistake. Much like it was summoning Sundance mid battlefield. Much like aiming it was aiming broken hand cannon only for it to fail with that one shot towards the Hangman. He got punted through a wall and hit while unarmed.

As he lay dying shot by his own gun. He knew the truth of his life as it flashed by his eyes and he did not have a single piece of paper to write it down. To write to Ayce and not the Ace he thought he was. To replace my Queen with a King. Rearrange how he saw life. To apologize for my shortcomings. Like any wildcard, he don’t start with that, he started with a quip.

The guardian he hoped he had guided to be a better person than him, to be someone like Andal. The poor thing and his Ghost, which was unlike any other, came to his side to witness his last moments. There was no coming back from this with a dead companion ghost laying in pieces and a hole skimming the edge of his heart and leaking everything that kept him alive. He had broken his exoskeleton in multiple places, lacerated and burned areas, and his face was a throbbing disaster. He was beyond help and repair.  
  
“How’s… how’s my hair?” He felt his synthetic lungs failing. His fingers were broken as well. He wished he wasn’t bleeding all over Andal’s cloak.

When the guardian released his ghost, I chuckled at the useless action. I didn’t need the ghost to tell me I was doomed.

“Speechless? Typical.” His partner in crime today had lost the ability to speak after losing all of their fireteam to Oryx. The last words heard from that mouth were cries for help from a useless Vanguard. He had not been allowed to leave and help. Called a hindrance by Zavala if he remembered correctly. That phrase had hurt for months.

Ghost confirmed his theory of no recovery.

“Listen, kid. This…this ain’t on you.” He told them. Hopefully alleviate them from a similar burden he had carried for Andal. He hoped that the hole torn by his heart made this cloak, this burden unwearable. This soul of light before him deserved to be free. No Dare from his mouth. No more mistakes. May this one Dare die with him. “This… is what I get for… for playing nice.” He chuckled wetly. He should’ve killed them the first time, maybe without the help of his Six. Those six would feel this guilt for him and he was sorry for that. But he only had so much. Two other people he had to reassure. Two people he loved. “You tell Zavala and Ikora…” He needed to get this out. So, he rattled his last breath with effort. “the Vanguard… is the best bet… I ever… lost”. With that the feed from his eyes began to fade.

Above him he saw the flames so similar to the light that had left him so cold. He was coming home Ayce. He only hoped that he was forgiven.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is where I got everything based off of. Please read and mourn with me. One day I will make this some complicate time travelling mess.
> 
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/categories/book-the-man-they-call-cayde


End file.
